Resurgence (redone)
by harbringer2332
Summary: (A rework of my old story) Long ago two warring cultures were separated. Now, long lost cousins meet again. Can anything survive the clash of Titans?
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: And it's back! This is a re-write of my original story: Resurgence. I like the idea, even though the execution was flawed, but I lost interest in it. This version will be similar to the first, based on the same ideas.

I'll try my best to upload regularly, but don't expect bi-weekly novels. This story is an experiment, not my sole purpose in life. If you have the time, or even feel the slightest inclination, please review and all of that stuff.

" _It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light"._ _Aristotle Onassis_

Prologue-

… _ission … abor… damage … all compartments. Power lost … ops cent… weapons, …cent… and communications._

 _Repeat. Mayday, Mayday, this is the USEFC Graf-Spe. Mission aborted. Critical damage to all compartments. Power lost to ops centre, life support, weapons, intelligence centre and communications._

 _Repeat. Mayday, Mayday…_

Chapter One

 _Graf-Spe- 1 minute before unknown contact_

Red lights flashed in the wrecked rooms and corridors of the USEFC _Graf-Spe_. These lights would usually be accompanied by blaring alarms, but these at the present time would have been completely inaudible had anybody been alive to hear them. This was due to a decidedly unhealthy lack of atmosphere inside the shattered hulk of the warship.

Piggybacking on the faint ebb of power produced by the ships' backup generators, an artificial intelligence designated _Hermes_ slumbered. Drawing what little extra power he could, he began to reactivate his subroutines and assumed control of the ship. Once the menial tasks of jettisoning a reactor midway through a nuclear meltdown, and ascertaining that he had no idea of where the Graf-Spe was in location to anything, Hermes powered up his sensors.

 _1 kilometre sweep … … …_

 _No contacts_

 _5 kilometre sweep … … …_

 _No contacts_

 _40 kilometre sweep … … …_

 _No contacts_

 _100 kilometre sweep … … …_

 _Unidentified contact detected_

 _Hermes r_ edirected what was left of the _Graf-Spe_ 's sensory systems to where he had detected the anomaly; and a previously hazy return cleared up, taking shape as a large ship. A _very_ large ship.

 _Graf-Spe, Damage Control Centre- 2 minutes after unknown contact_

 _Lights flashed and klaxons wailed. Boots pounded on floor plating as panicked officers and enlisted sailors ran to their action stations. A faint rumble rippled through the length of the_ _proud warship_ _, followed by louder tearing noises. Seemingly unnoticed by the rest of the crew, David went to the nearest viewport. Gazing into space, he saw what had turned the normally professional and calm atmosphere of a USEFC warship into one of fear and anticipation. The light from a nearby sun was blotted out, eclipsed by the alligator-like bow of another vessel. It approached as a predator would with cornered prey. The promise of violence filled the void between worlds._

Petty Officer David Kelly was jolted awake by an electrical sparking sound. Opening his eyes he saw the visor of his helmet. It was coated in dried blood. David could feel a weight on his chest, squeezing him and constricting his breathing.

He activated his communicator and keyed in a distress code. _Where was he, how had it happened…Whatever actually_ had _happened._

"Good morning Petty Officer. It is 0200 hours London time, exactly 5 hours after the attack. How are you holding up?" The voice came from his communicator, built into his helmet.

"Medic…please…" he groaned.

"Unfortunately, all medical personnel on board are deceased." Hermes answered.

"What? All of them…what happened?"

"Almost immediately after the call to action stations, the _Graf-Spe_ was rammed amid-ships by the Incursionist vessel. Most of the crew were killed on impact. Of those that were not, their compartments were breached and they were lost to space. I am sorry Petty Officer. You are the sole survivor of the USEFC _Graf-Spe."_

A media screen was projected on David's visor. Hermes was feeding him live security camera footage of the damage control centre. David saw himself, pinned against the centre console by a detached piece of bulkhead wedged between the consoles and ceiling. He saw his Lieutenant, or what was left of him, crushed against the far wall. Another petty officer was also visible, impaled by a thin metal rod which had punctured her protective armour and pinned her to her seat.

He was stunned by the carnage. The last thing he remembered was strapping himself into his seat and then…nothing. David felt his blood rush to his head and he wrenched at the bulkhead in frustration. The obstruction shifted, freeing him.

Still blind save for the camera feed, David noted that the artificial gravity had gone out and the room was foggy with toxic fire suppressant. He wiped the blood, grime and dust off his visor, wincing at the jolt of pain elicited by the action. Now he could see more clearly. The damage control centre was in dis-repair, pieces of equipment strewn about the compartment. Small particles of blood floated in a haze around the Lieutenant's corpse. The scene was bathed in the harsh red lighting of a ship running on emergency power.

David launched himself out of his chair, aiming for the console next to his. He miss-judged and crashed into the female petty officer, striking his helmet against the console. Grabbing the monitor to stabilise himself, he oriented to a position 'above' the sailor. He grabbed her wrist and checked her suit's tac-pad. No vitals. She was dead.

David composed himself- it had been a long shot. "Hermes. Status report."

"Aye aye sir. All offensive and defensive systems offline. Life support offline. Sensory suite is operating at 20% capacity. Primary and secondary power offline. Emergency tertiary power at 100%. An unidentified contact has been detected at a range of 100 kilometres. "

"Unidentified? Has it moved?"

"No sir."

"Not a rescue ship then." David activated the dead petty officer's display, pulling up sensory readings and damage reports.

"As all propulsion and navigational systems are offline, and the bridge is destroyed. Sir; it is my duty to activate this vessel's self-destruct if it becomes compromised by any hostile or unknown entity while the crew is incapacitated."

David glanced at the security camera set in a recess in the corner of the room. "Please hold off on that for the moment Hermes."

He pondered the screen for a few minutes. With this kind of damage the ship was incapable of defending itself or calling for help.

"The unidentified vessel has launched small craft. I am detecting twelve smaller and three larger contacts."

David examined the sensory data which Hermes was feeding to his console. The twelve smaller spacecraft were maintaining a protective formation around the three larger ones. "Shuttles?" He asked.

"Most probably to land a boarding party." Hermes responded.

"Threat analysis?"

"In our current state, we are incapable of withstanding an assault from an Apollo mission era space shuttle armed with flashlight strength lasers."

David pushed away from the console, throwing himself towards a discoloured section of wall immediately under the security camera. He reached out and grabbed a handhold set into the wall, preventing himself from rebounding. With a twist of the handhold the wall segment, a slightly darker grey than the rest of the warship, slid away after a bio-recognition system confirmed his authorisation. It revealed a sub-armoury, designed to equip and resupply sailors fighting off boarders. David reached for a rifle.

(Line _Break)_

 _David basked in soft warmth. Where was he? …He was lying in a bed. Opening his eyes he saw a familiar face. It was Cath. They must be in her house he decided. Home. He must have recently returned from a deployment, because he felt tiredness set deep in his bones. Through half closed eyelids, he could see her walking around, cleaning, and arranging furniture._

" _Time to wake up David. Robert will be coming over for lunch soon," she said. "David?"_

 _Suddenly the room took on a greenish hue, across the room Cath stiffened and a high-pitched keening sound erupted in his head._

 _David rolled off the bed, diving behind a couch as she turned towards him._ No! Not her!

"David!"

 _Graf-Spe, Damage Control Centre- 20 minutes since unknown contact_

David woke up. Again. This time he was in some sort of zero-G foetal position on the opposite side of the room from the weapons locker.

"Petty officer?" Hermes asked- his voice tinged with what would be concern in a human.

"I'm good, I'm good. I must be a bit fragile still." David stretched out of the ball he had curled into, trying not to wince at the ever-present pain in his back where the bulkhead had pressed into him.

After a few minutes of pulling, tugging, and re-adjusting equipment, David grabbed the armoured plates designed to upgrade standard duty helmets to combat capable standards. He slid the pieces into their corresponding grooves where they were magnetically fixed. David blinked at several settings on his HUD, activating the manoeuvring unit attached to the small of his back. With a motion of his armoured glove, he jetted around the room trying to remember his days in basic training while getting used to the feel of the combat armour resting over his skin suit.

"The unknown small craft have finished cutting through the hull. I am detecting multiple life signs entering the ship. Scans show them to be armed." Hermes warned.

David returned to the sub armoury, took out a standard issue particle pistol, inspected it for faults and then attached it to a magnetic clamp on his right. He then withdrew another standard issue weapon. Giving it a quick check over, he slung the carbine over his shoulder. While smaller and less powerful than an infantry rifle, it possessed significantly more firepower than a 21st century weapon of similar function.

Checking the video feed from security cameras inside the breached corridor, David saw six figures floating in a semicircle around a glowing hole in the wall. They were humanoid, and wore strange gold pressure suits with helmets resembling those of a World War Two helmet/gas mask combo. Most of them held long rifles that were raised as their bearers scanned for possible threats. "Try and tap into their communications network Hermes," ordered David. "Lets see who our guests are. Open the bulkhead Hermes." Cracking his neck he disengaged his weapon's safety catch and jetted into the corridor beyond.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: Hey guys. This chapter is a little longer than the last one because I merged what would have been the second and third chapters into one. I hope you enjoy reading this.

" _When backed into a corner, people will do anything to survive. Maybe that's why they fought so hard. Maybe we acted too quickly. What's done is done. We have made our mistakes, and now we shall pay for them… history repeats itself."_

-Amanda Carlisle Rear Admiral, Colonial Fleet

Chapter Two

Battlestar Galactica (Flagship BSG 75)- CiC- (1 hour prior to detection by Hermes)

"Commander Adama sir? You want to see this!"

Commander William 'Husker' Adama sighed. The 75th Battlestar Group had been patrolling an asteroid belt on the fringe of Colonial space in for several weeks. In that time, they had apprehended little more than a few stray planetoids. The crew was tired of the endless drills, followed by nothing, followed by even more drills. At one point the order of the day had simply read 'Hurry up and wait'. Even the old hands, veterans of the Cylon war, took little comfort in being assigned to their old ship- the soon to be decommissioned Galactica.

 _'Truth be told, I'm starting to get sick of it as well_ ' Adama thought. Retirement couldn't come soon enough.

Adama walked over to the young, fresh-faced ensign who had called him from across the CiC.

"Report Ensign," barked Colonel Tigh, the Executive Officer of the Galactica who had also been Adama's best friend for decades. They had served on the same ships the whole time.

"Unknown contact bearing three Carom niner, one hundred and fifty thousand clicks in front of us sir," the ensign called, "It's very hazy sir, too far away for any accurate readings. But definitely not an asteroid sir."

Adama frowned thoughtfully; it really wasn't that un-common of an occurrence. Rich civilians often took custom-made pleasure yachts for a cruise, and salvage teams were _still_ looking for Cylon-war era wrecks that dotted the space around the Colonies. ' _But still, civilians this far away from anything of importance? Better safe than sorry,'_ he thought.

"Sound condition two throughout the ship. Helm: course correction, take us towards the unknown contact. I want alert fighters in their tubes, ready to be launched ASAP." Adama ordered.

Officers and crew moved about the CiC as condition two was sounded. Colonel Tigh maintained a close watch on the flurry of activity, ensuring that the crew retained the crisp efficiency that had been the trademark of the colonial fleet for hundreds of years. "Approximately fifty minutes before we arrive at the unknown contact sir."

(Line Break)

Battlestar Galactica (Flagship BSG 75)- CiC- (Time of detection by Hermes)

"Commander Adama Sir!"

Adama pushed himself out of the chair he had been occupying, and strode quickly to the DRADIS operator's station, now manned by a slightly less fresh faced and more experienced lieutenant. "Report lieutenant." He said.

"Detailed scan is complete. DRADIS is now picking up a singular ship, composed of an unknown compound at a distance of 200 clicks. It is approximately one thousand feet long. Sensors aren't picking up any power readings; that suggests that this is probably a wreck. We are seeing up a large amount of debris in close proximity to the ship. Wait!" The lieutenant twitched in surprise. "The unknown contact is generating heat, and the electromagnetic anomaly detector is showing weak radio emissions."

"It's active?" Adama asked, also surprised.

"I wouldn't say that sir, it looks like she's been hurt pretty badly. Its profile matches nothing in our logs; ship design and composition are like nothing I have ever seen before."

Adama frowned. "What do you mean it's not in our logs? Is it Cylon?"

"I don't think so sir. It does not match known Cylon designs or their preferred layouts."

' _Then whose ship is it? Maybe something from Colonial Intelligence?'_ Shaking himself Adama ordered a live feed opened from one of the Galactica's observation cameras. Looking up at the large screen mounted on the wall, the crew saw the shattered hulk of a decidedly…different-looking ship. It hung in space, with massive gashes torn through the hull. A cloud of debris hung in a cloud around the stricken vessel. The commander gave his orders. "Launch alert vipers, prepare Raptors for detailed scanning and boarding missions. I want three squads of marines on board that ship as soon as our vipers have established a perimeter."

(Line Break)

Battlestar Galactica (Flagship BSG 75)- Portside hanger- (Twenty minutes after detection by Hermes)

"Attention on deck!"

The assembled Viper pilots, Raptor crew and marines stood at attention as the acting CAG entered the hanger space. Captain Lee 'Apollo' Adama had assumed the role after Major Spencer had been killed in a motor accident shortly before deployment.

"As you were." Apollo said as he strode into the middle of the group. The pilots and marines present gathered around him as he began the pre-mission briefing.

"At 02:30 hours this morning, Galactica made contact with an unidentified vessel outside of detailed DRADIS range. After an alert was sounded to the fleet, Galactica and two destroyers, the Hakkon and Theana, moved to form a perimeter. We are now 200 clicks from the unknown. Detailed scans show it to be one thousand feet long, emitting relatively high levels of heat, composed of a completely unknown compound and constructed to a completely unknown design."

"Your mission is to secure that ship for an engineering team currently on board the Theana, they will rendezvous with you once the all clear is sounded. The commander wants this one to be simple. Vipers, you escort the Raptors and form a perimeter. If something makes a move towards the transports, shoot it. Raptors, your job is to breach the hull and allow us access to the interior. There are several sections that appear to be open to space, but the chance of structural instability is too high to try and enter that way so you're cutting into the hull. Marines, the old man wants a safe environment for the engineers. If there are Cylons on board, that means removing them. If this turns out to be some Colonial Intelligence gig, you apologise, come back and hope you get to keep your jobs."

A round of chuckling followed, quickly stifled as Apollo raised his hand for silence.

"I will be in charge until we have boots on the ground. When that happens, Lieutenant Agathon is in charge. I want you to remember that we are going in blind. This could be anything from a civilian who had a disagreement with an asteroid to some Cylon trap."

Apollo looked around at the assembled faces. Some were nervous with anticipation. Some looked excited at the prospect of seeing real combat. But none of them were afraid. Nodding to himself, he said "Alright people. Move out."

(Line break)

Battlestar Galactica (Flagship BSG 75)- Portside flight pod- (Forty minutes after detection by Hermes)

"Engines are green, comms green, weapons green, DRADIS green…" Lieutenant Karl 'Helo' Agathon sighed as he listened to his pilot Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii rattle off pre-launch safety checks. Closing his eyes, he lent backwards in his seat. He could hear the marines in the rear of his Raptor checking their equipment, loading and re-loading magazines. Turning in his seat, he looked at the marine sergeant in charge of the section. "Why has the old man mobilised the entire ship for some wreck, what does he think is going to happen?" Karl asked him. The seasoned soldier looked up from the rifle that he was nursing in his arms. Shaking his head he said, "I dunno sir. Damn strange if you ask me. Chasing rocks and rich, lost Capricans for weeks would make anybody jumpy. Got a case of the nerves meself." A whine could be heard as the Raptor began to rumble and shake. The sergeant propped his rifle against his seat and strapped himself in, Karl quickly following suit as the Raptor lifted off the flight deck. He turned in his seat and looked out of the cockpit's window. He saw the interior of the Galactica's portside flight pod flash past, and then the inky blackness of space as they left the ship. Karl flipped a switch that activated the Raptor's communications suite. Linking the radio in his helmet to the terminal in front of him, he opened a channel to the Galactica.

"Control".

"We read you Raptor three." Came the professional response.

"We have successful launch- all systems are green. Requesting clearance to rendezvous with Survey Wing Alpha."

"Affirmative Raptor three, transmitting coordinates… link up with the rest of the wing, they're already in place." Switching his display to the Raptor's DRADIS array, he entered the coordinates of the rendezvous site into the navigational computer. He felt g-forces pulling him towards the rear of the craft as Boomer re-oriented the ship and accelerated.

"Thirty seconds till we meet up with the rest of the Wing." Boomer called from the front of the craft. Karl looked for the silver forms of their escorts, but couldn't see much, just the bright stars on the black backdrop of nothingness that comprised the vast majority of the cosmos. Boomer looked back at him, and pointed in front of the Raptor towards a metallic glint, reflecting light from the stars around them. The speck of light slowly separated into the distinct forms of the ten Vipers and two other Raptors that comprised Survey Wing Alpha.

Deep space- 170 clicks from Graf-Spe- (Forty five minutes after detection by Hermes)

"Captain Adama, this is Raptor three. We have arrived at the rendezvous and will take our place in the formation."

The three Raptors fired manoeuvring thrusters, and formed up in a small triangle as their ten escort Vipers assumed a V formation around their charges. Once the pilots of each craft declared that they were ready, the small formation began moving towards the unknown vessel, and although they had no way of knowing, towards the greatest discovery since the formation of the colonies.

(Line break)

" _I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."_

– _Albert Einstein_

 _Graf-Spe- Inside Raptor boarding craft_

Karl gripped his pistol, knuckles white with tension underneath the padded gloves of his flight suit. Standing in the gap between the cockpit and the rest of the Raptor, he watched as the marines of boarding team one cut through the hull of the mysterious derelict ship.

"Hang on, cut that bit again, didn't get all the way… Ok push the probe through," the marine sergeant said. He stood up and pointed towards Karl's ECO station. "The data should come up on your terminal in a moment sir".

Karl holstered his weapon and sat down at his station. A new screen opened, showing the readings received from the probe inside the ship. The results would be automatically transmitted to the other Raptors of the boarding force. "Alright marines, here we go. This ship has no atmosphere, so you better activate your breathing and climate control gear before we go inside. Gravity is fluctuating and very weak; whatever they use to create artificial gravity must be damaged somehow. The camera can't see much, just an empty corridor. So… apart from a few bits of debris you're in the clear."

The sergeant nodded at the lieutenant then turned to his marines, who were clustered around the boarding hatch. "You heard the el-tee ladies and gents, get some breaching charges on that hull. We need a way inside the ship before we can start our mission. Don't leave your helmets here, because I'm not sharing. And turn your radios on, otherwise you ain't gonna be hearing much of anything".

In most circumstances, the doctrine that governed Colonial boarding missions required the target vessel's hull to be cut through using a raptor's plasma cutters for stealth purposes. Fortunately for the marines on-board the three Raptors that made up Survey Wing Alpha, the crew of the unknown vessel appeared to be mysteriously absent. This meant that stealth was not required, and that the marines could resort to their less time consuming, and much loved time proven friend. High Explosive.

Karl heard a large thud as the Mk 4 shaped charge blew a hole through the unknown material that comprised the ships' unusually thin hull. "Let's go see if anybody's at home shall we?" he said, trying not to show how uneasy he was to the marines. Karl pulled out his pistol and once again, found himself nervously clenching his hand on its grip. He felt himself rise out of his seat as Boomer disengaged the Raptor's artificial gravity. With this came the unpleasant sensation of nausea and disorientation commonly associated with sudden exposure to null-g conditions.

The marines began to 'drop' through the boarding hatch on the bottom of the raptor. One by one, they clipped their rifles to their combat and pulled themselves head first through the hole into the other ship.

"C'mon sir, after you"

Karl nodded to the marine who had spoken to him as he pushed himself towards the boarding hatch. He pulled himself through, the hard rim of the hatch mildly painful even through his gloves. Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, Karl tried to raise his pistol at the unknown attacker only to come face to face with a marine, grinning under her helmet.

"Sorry for the shock sir, but we don't want you banging your precious officer's head all over the floor do we?"

Karl thanked the marine, and took stock of his surroundings. The corridor that the small group of Colonials was floating in was bathed in a harsh red light. They were about half way down, with the corridor extending 40 feet in either direction. Windows dotted the grey walls at regular intervals. The marines began to sweep the corridor, meeting up with the squads from the other two Raptors who had breached further ahead, checking small alcoves set into the walls for danger or anything of value. Inside the alcoves sat small hatches. One trooper stopped next to a window and examined it thoughtfully.

"Sir?" he asked over the radio. "Why would you put windows on a ship this size?"

Karl pushed away from the roof and joined him. "I'm not sure corporal. It goes against Fleet reg's, that's for sure. Looks like this could be a civilian ship."

"Lieutenant! Found something!"

A marine was floating in front of one of the alcoves in the wall, rifle pointed at the bulkhead. Kicking off the wall, Karl floated towards him. The rest of the boarding party were either examining other bulkheads, or taking up positions with weapons aimed at the large hatches on either end of the corridor.

"This was the only one that was open sir."

Looking over the marines shoulder, Karl saw a room with a row of bunks running down either wall. There was a table fixed to the floor in the middle of the room and several chairs were floating near the roof. Karl realised that it must have been some type of sleeping quarters, mixed with a rec room. Debris filled the room, personal items such as pictures turned slowly above the beds; a pack of playing cards lay a few inches off the floor in front of them.

"We're going in to take a look."

Pulling himself through the hatchway, something knocked against his helmet. Karl looked up and saw a small rectangular object, about a third of an inch thick. He plucked it out of the 'air', and examined it. One side had a smooth black surface upon which sat a reflected image of Karl's visor. The other side was also flat, but grey with curved edges. Letting curiosity get the better of him, he depressed a small button on the bottom-left corner. The black side came alive in a flash of colour, starkly contrasting the flashing red emergency lights set in the roof.

Several other marines passed Karl and began to examine the other items in the room. "What's that sir?" The marine who had found the open hatchway was now using his helmet lights to illuminate the strange object.

"I believe, private, that it is a computing device of some kind. It's smaller than anything I've seen before though."

Now that the smooth black surface had revealed itself to be a screen, Karl looked for a way of controlling it. There were no other buttons on the device, nothing into which he could input commands. He poked it to see if it would do anything. For a second, nothing happened. Then a new window opened up, showing what appeared to be a set of schematics for… what?

The marine, looking at the device exclaimed "Isn't that the ship we're on now?"

Nodding, Karl was about to re-examine the display and say that they should leave the room for Galactica's scientists, when he heard a startled yell over the squad radio channel.

"Holy shit, what the frack was that!"

One of the marines who had taken up positions at the end of the corridor lurched backwards and floated away from the open passageway.

"What happened?" Karl asked over the comm system while exiting the compartment- pistol extended before him.

"I saw something move sir, in the next room sir! It looked like a fracking Cylon!"

The sergeant pushed himself down the corridor towards the nervous marine. Holding his rifle in one hand, he placed the other on the marines' shoulder. Looking at the young soldier, Karl realised that he was young enough to have just come out of basic training. The sergeant rapped on the side of his helmet.

"Hey, look at me alright? Cylons ain't been seen in forty years, you're not going to find any here. Now. What _did_ you see?"

"It was a- Holy Frack!"

The marine raised his rifle, pushing the sergeant away as he did so. He let rip, assault rifle on full auto firing at something on the other side of the hatchway. Karl saw a golden light flash on the other side, and the marine who had opened fire was thrown backwards, a smoking hole in his chest. Everything slowed down for Karl as he watched the marine spin slowly down the corridor.

"Cover, cover. Supressing fire!"

Karl pushed himself towards an alcove a few feet down the corridor. Another streak of light flashed passed, missing him by inches. He hissed in pain as he felt a burning sensation spread across his chest. Karl saw his flight suit sag slightly as it was seared by the passing shot. He slammed into the wall, helmet smacking against an exposed pipe. Karl grabbed the wall, and pulled himself towards the edge of the alcove. He saw, as if in slow motion, the marines taking cover behind anything they could find, while pouring a barrage of supressing fire through the now open hatchway. He saw a bolt of golden light fly past one marine, and catch a second on the side of her helmet. The marine spun sideways and floated down the middle of the corridor with half of her head gone. Karl looked past the dead marine, and down the passageway. A humanoid figure clad in a suit of white armour was crouched upside down relative to the Colonials, seemingly unfazed by the hail of fire being poured into the now open hatchway. It raised a strange looking rifle and let loose several more shots. Another marine was thrown backwards with a charred hole in his chest. One of his fellow soldiers managed to damage the weapon with accurate fire from a marksman rifle. At this the unknown contact pushed itself towards the closest marine, grabbing him as it flew past. The unfortunate marine was thrown headfirst into a wall with a sickening impact as the unknown pushed off him, using him to change direction. It flew towards a second marine who received two armoured boots to the chest with enough force to crush his ribcage.

"Lieutenant Agathon to Galactica. We've been engaged and have taken casualties. Requesting- SHIT!" Karl was cut off as the unconscious body of another marine sailed into him. Pushing the unfortunate servicewoman away he looked around the corner of the alcove which he had taken cover in. He saw the seemingly unharmed armoured figure grappling with the marine sergeant. The seasoned marine threw a punch, only to have his arm caught and his elbow broken in return. Karl raised his pistol and emptied his magazine into the hostile's exposed back. The high explosive/armour piercing rounds spun it around, slamming it into the wall. The surviving marines pounced onto the apparently dazed…thing…and restrained it.

"Lieutenant Agathon to Galactica, Lieutenant Agathon to Galactica. We've been engaged and have taken casualties. The situation is under control, requesting re-enforcements and medical teams to our location."

"Affirmative Lieutenant, good work. The commander wants you to secure the area and continue sweeping the ship. Be warned- more hostiles could be on board. Essential scientific and medical personnel have already been dispatched. "

A marine who was helping restrain the unknown combatant shook his head while taking another look at their surroundings.

"I don't think this was made by Colonials… Or Cylons."

Authors note: As always, please review, tell me how to improve, suggestions etc.


	3. Chapter 3

" _When you encounter an enemy: Evaluate their weaknesses, Design a strategy and execute it. Hit them hard and don't stop until they no longer pose a threat. Remember, give no reason for somebody to start a fight- but if they do make sure that you finish it. "_

-Warrant Officer Jamison Briggs- USEFC Army instructor

Chapter four

 _Battlestar Galactica- Brig_

"… _recruits, listen up! Welcome to Basic training. For the next three months you will train alongside your counterparts from all branches of the USEFC. You will learn survival skills, escape and evasion, basic weapons handling, resistance to interrogation and military history, protocol and procedures. After this time, you will be separated according to your chosen service: Army, Fleet, Air Force or … wet-Navy." At this the assembled trainees chuckled at the expense of the smallest branch of the military._

" _After being trained according to your service, you will choose from a selection of specialised or general roles such as boatswains mate if you're a swabbie. Specialist training will then…"_

David awoke to a kick in the ribs. A black boot crunched into his side sending him rolling into a wall. A harsh voice spoke, but he could not make out what was said. David groaned and pushed himself into a kneeling position, still dazed and disoriented. Fighting through the grogginess he saw a set of heavy metal bars; he was enclosed in the corner of a large room. Grabbing for a bar, he rose gingerly to his feet. Inside the cell with him was a helmeted man dressed in black fatigues and a combat vest, wielding a strange looking rifle. All at once, David remembered what had happened.

"Where am I"? David directed the question at his guard. The man blinked and looked confused. He turned slightly, saying something to somebody David could not see behind the soldier's bulk. _What did he say?_

"Προς την πόρτα, απόβρασμα" The guard said something else, this time directed at David, while gesturing with his rifle. He realised that he couldn't understand anything the gunman was saying. David took a step away from him, but the rifle was instead pointed at his chest. Raising his hands, he took a step towards the cell door, and the guard nodded. Gesturing with his weapon again the man followed, handing him over to a woman in the same apparel as his guard. She took David by his arm and pressed an oversized pistol to his side.

"So, how's your day going?" David asked. The pistol dug painfully into his ribs. "Awesome. Mine too."

 _Battlestar Galactica- Briefing room_

"Commander Adama sir."

"Give me an update lieutenant, what is it?"

"He was unconscious for most of the trip back from his ship. One of my marines was fairly… enthusiastic when restraining him. We stripped him of weapons and armour, and sent them to engineering for a look over."

"Its not a Cylon?"

"No sir." The marine lieutenant paused as if afraid to tell Adama something. "Sir, when we took his helmet off… He's completely biological, and from what we could tell, human."

The commander said nothing, keeping his face calm to mask his surprise. "Are you certain? Has the doctor verified this?"

"We took a blood sample and sent it down, but he looks as human as any of us sir."

Adama sighed, wondering at the consequences of this discovery. "Very well. Dismissed lieutenant."

"Sir." The marine saluted and walked out of the room. After he had left, Adama collapsed into a seat at the head of the large table dominating the center of the Galactica's conference room, exhausted and stressed –like the rest of the crew- by the long patrol. _How could he be human? None of the colonies has ever built a ship like that, unless it's something Colonial Intelligence has cooked up. No current Colonial vessel matches those specifications- we've got nothing similar in our logs. But it has to be Colonial if its crew was human._ He opened his folder and pulled out a picture. The unusual spacecraft was difficult to see against the darkness of space. _There's nothing else out here except for Cylons- but he can't be, he looks human. No. Probably just a pirate. Hopefully just a pirate. Not even Intelligence operators would attack friendly marines._

He put the reconnaissance photograph away before drawing out a list of the personnel who had been involved in the operation. Adama looked at the hatchway at the far end of the briefing room. "Corporal!"

Another marine entered, this one in full body armour toting a rifle in his arms. He stood at the far end of the table and faced Adama, saluting as he did so. "Find the XO, CAG and the marine captain. After that I want Doc Cottle, his test results and lieutenant Agnerson here ASAP."

The marine duplicated his salute, turned and left the room. Sighing again he withdrew another file from the folder, this one detailing preliminary findings from the engineering and science teams on board. "What the frack is going on? Why does it have fracking _windows_?"

Picon orbit- Colonial Fleet Headquarters

2 days later

Admiral Nagala sighed and rubbed his eyes. The command station's ventilation systems filled his quarters with an endless backdrop of noise. He looked balefully at the pile of Fleet status reports that lay on the side of his desk. Research and Development were screaming for funding, the commanders of construction and refit yards were complaining of supply shortages, and the Government was riding him to find new tylium fields to replace the Colonies' dwindling reserves. A full dozen of the newest Battlestar groups had been dispatched beyond the red line, away from Cylon space, to look for asteroid belts rich in the precious fuel.

With no Cylons having been sighted for forty years, vicious budget cuts had all but hamstrung the Colonial Fleet. Whenever a new Battlestar or heavy escort was commissioned it was immediately dispatched on exploration and mapping missions. The Adar administration was eager to please a populace disgruntled by a weak and steadily declining economy, at the expense of home defence fleets. The aged admiral wore the stress poorly, his brow permanently creased in a frown while his knee, broken in a Pyramid match at the Fleet Academy, ached constantly.

He looked up when the door chimed, signalling that somebody wished to speak with him. Any emergency would have been accompanied by a call to action stations- a rare event since the end of the Cylon War. Nagala stood and opened the door. A lieutenant stood at the entrance holding a folder by her side.

" _Another_ report? Gods fracking damn it!"

"Sorry to intrude sir, but a Raptor from the Galactica just jumped in system carrying a communiqué for your eyes only. I have the hard copy for you here."

"Adama…that old warhorse was patrolling an empty star system. There shouldn't have been anything particularly interesting out there. Give me the folder elltee."

Sitting at his desk Nagala opened the report. He scanned past the first few lines:

… _unidentified vessel had suffered catastrophic damage prior to the arrival of BSG 75. Initial scans could not confirm it as being registered to any Colonial Battlestar group or non-classified Fleet project. It could not be identified through the warbook; matching no civilian or known Cylon designs_. _Upon boarding our marines were engaged by what appears to be the last surviving member of the crew- the hostile was armed with some form of advanced energy weapon and protective armour far exceeding the capabilities of our own. This individual was restrained and has been detained on the Galactica. Initial medical examinations show him to be human; not Cylon. Our scientists and engineers believe the ship and this soldier to be some form of failed CI operation. A secondary, but more troubling possibility is that this is genuine first contact with another human faction._

 _I am requesting additional military support as well as CI and Fleet RnD units as soon as possible. The site has been contained, but it is not within our capabilities to further examine the scene- nor my authority to determine the course of action to be taken from here. I have ordered our marines to cease their exploration of the vessel until we know if Colonial Intelligence had a hand here. There is also the possibility of more hostiles being on-board._

 _Find enclosed detailed scans and preliminary findings along with an inventory of the material recovered from secure compartments of the vessel before it was quarantined._

 _Commander William Adama- (BSG-75) Battlestar Galactica_

The admiral rubbed his eyes. Now he had to deal with an ageing and clearly delusional Commander too. He lowered the report slowly before pulling a sheet of photographs from inside the folder.

"What in the name of the Gods…"

Battlestar Galactica- CIC

5 days later

"DRADIS contact! DRADIS contact!"

Adama raised his eyes to the DRADIS readouts in the center of the CIC. A large group of ships had just jumped into the system. The unknown fleet was met with a challenge issued by the communications officer, before the screens jumped and the designation icons switched from neutral grey to friendly blue.

"Positive confirmation Commander. Battlestar groups 13 and 43 have arrived and are taking formation with our escorts. The CO of the Solaria is requesting direct communication with you sir."

"Put her through."

Adama picked up a phone from the console in front of him. "This is Galactica actual."

A response crackled through the lines. "Adama, this is Admiral Banks of the Solaria. Your contact report was received by Picon Fleet HQ days ago, and your claims of a possible first contact…let's say that I didn't quite believe you. Even with what my DRADIS is telling me I still don't. I want an update on the situation as well as an opportunity to interview the survivor."

"Of course Admiral. I've dispatched a Raptor to bring you to the Galactica. Our doctor and engineers are ready to brief you."

" _The Incursionist invasion of 2084 resulted in a drawn-out 5 year engagement in which millions of lives and several colonies were lost. The independent nations of Earth and Mars survived at a terrible price- our traditional superpowers, wearied by the conflict, were superseded in matters of politics and trade by the New Commonwealth. By their initiative the United Nations reworked its charter, becoming the United Systems. No-longer an arbitrary oversight agency, it is now the unified government of all human cultures who remained loyal to Earth."_

" _The staggering loss of life incurred during the Incursionist War was a testament to the unorthodox path that the conflict took. When conventional methods proved unable to contain the aliens, the United Nations employed devastating biological weapons; infectious diseases designed to quickly end the pain of those corrupted by the Incursionists. In order to protect our species, we sacrificed our own Humanity. This is the history behind two of the Fleet's creeds; Never Again and Never Forget. Once the War was over, our military and political leaders resigned. We promised that we would never allow our people to be lost to our own weapons again, and never forget the perpetual threat that the unknown presents to our species."_

-Jerome Hawkins- Secretary of the United Systems- Commissioning speech of the USEFC Titanic

 _Lunar Surface- United Systems of Earth Fleet Command HQ_

 _Begin report_

 _27-March-2157_

 _From: Rear Admiral Selena Peters- Commander military district 4_

 _To: Vice Admiral George Stirling- Director of operations FleetHQ_

 _Sir, my regards,_

 _On the 20_ _th_ _of March the Protector class destroyer USEFC Graf-Spe was dispatched to investigate unusual signals emanating from an unexplored location beyond United Systems controlled space. The Graf-Spe was required to make status reports every four hours until her return upon completion of her mission. District 4 command has since lost contact with the ship- no communications have been received for two days, and all hails go unanswered. My staff and I concur that this is most likely due to an equipment malfunction, but I have assumed the worst and have ordered a Commonwealth battlegroup to locate the Graf-Spe. The worst-case scenario is that she has been captured, and the crew turned, by the Incursionist remnant- in preparation for such an eventuality I am requesting additional battlegroups to reinforce our compliment. If no new contact is made with the Graf-Spe additional special mission vessels will be dispatched to locate her._

 _See attached relevant additional files and the Graf-Spe's mission statement._

 _End report_

Battlestar Galactica - CiC- (30 minutes after arrival of BSG 13/43)

"Colonel Tigh sir! Sensors are reading a power surge in the derelict warship."

Tigh turned away from the DRADIS readouts, which were displaying the warships of the 13th and 43rd BSG's as they secured the system. "What kind of surge Lieutenant?"

"I don't know sir."

"Order the sentry Vipers and Raptors to back off- this might be some kind of trap."

A screen on the far wall blinked on, displaying a live feed from one of the Galactica's forward cameras. Just as Tigh turned to look at it he saw the foreign vessel's hull ripple, and then expand outwards in a catastrophic explosion. Pieces of debris were flung through space- shattering several Vipers and Raptors who had not been far enough away. On board the Battlestar the lights dimmed. Screens flickered and failed like a terminal patient's faltering heartbeat.

As activity erupted across the CiC, the damage control officer called over the noise. "Sir, multiple system failures across the board. Communications and weapons are inoperable and DRADIS is down," he paused for a moment before helplessly tapping at a disabled display, "the damage is consistent with a powerful EMP."

Tigh looked over the CiC as the light died, only to be replaced by soft red emergency lighting. "Send runners down to engineering, get them to reboot the reactors. I don't care what you have to do. Get this ship operational!" He roared. "And somebody get the old man!"

At the border of Colonial territory the Battlestars and escorts of three BSG's drifted powerlessly through space. One stricken destroyer strayed in front of a heavy cruiser, the crews of both only able to watch on helplessly. A titanic collision followed, silent in the void of space. The smaller vessel spun slowly off course, cleaved in two and surrounded in a mist of debris and corpses.

Picon orbit- Colonial Fleet Headquarters- CI holding area

6 weeks later

The boom of an armoured airlock swinging shut filled the spartan rooms of the Colonial Intelligence brig. Two guards looked up from their card game.

"Is that him?" One of the pair asked. Even on casual inspection the two seated guards did not look like soldiers- they wore the dress uniforms of Fleet officers as opposed to marine BDU's.

"Probably. The Quorum went apeshit when the other human warship attacked those three Battlestar Groups. But…I don't know. With the stranglehold the various temples have had over Adar's cabinet and the Quorum, I'd be careful taking too much of what they say at face value."

The first officer nodded. With an exclamation of disgust he folded his hand. "That ship must have been something though- three Battlestar Groups? I mean, I saw the body bags, and pirates can't do that. They must have had some serious kit."

"No kidding, it would have taken the Cylons a dozen capital warships to duplicate that damage."

The door to the guardroom slid open. Both officers stood and stiffened to attention. Two more officers entered the brig on either side of a hooded individual. The clinking of chains grew louder, and the pair could see that both his hands and feet were shackled.

The two new officers marched their prisoner into an open cell. They removed the hood from his head. David winced in pain as his eyes were exposed to the bright lights of the brig.

He watched as one of his escorts set up a device resembling an older television camera opposite his cell. The four smartly uniformed guards stood silently for several minutes. One of them then drew her sidearm.

David felt time slow down as he stared down the barrel of the pistol. "Petty Officer David Kelly, USEFC Graf-Spe. Service number M-7690124-S."

A single shot rang out.

 _Reference 1-4/3: "The combined military of the United Systems falls under the Defence Force. Within this is the Fleet, Army, Air Force and wet-Navy, with the most senior member of the military always being a Fleet officer. The term 'fleet' is often used instead of 'Defence Forces'; and therefore it is not uncommon to hear members of the other services referred to as Fleet personnel, much to their chagrin. The structure of the Defence Force during operations is highly fluid, with the units of several services often being amalgamated into taskforces- even on a company level. Very rarely will an entire operation fall under the purview of a single service and its personnel."_

 _Reference 3-2/2: "The Commonwealth class cruiser is the mainstay of the United Systems Fleet. It combines the agility and versatility of its escorts with the firepower of Capital warships. As with all USEFC vessels, its primary armaments consist of long-range heavy missile systems, as well as pulse weapons designed to pierce the relatively thin hulls of modern starships. A Commonwealth battlegroup consists of two cruisers and an escort of three Protector Class destroyers."_

-USEFC codex- Fleet Public Office


	4. Chapter 4

" _I know not with what weapons World War Three will be fought, but World War Four will be fought with sticks and stones. "_

-Albert Einstein

Chapter four

 _Kokoda Battlegroup- USEFC Jutland- Operations Room_

The Commonwealth class cruiser _Jutland_ hung like a dark spectre in empty space. Against the cold black backdrop she would have been difficult to see with the naked eye- a trait mirrored by her almost non-existent electromagnetic output. All of this conspired to render her almost completely invisible to the bustling hive of warships several hundred thousand kilometres away.

 _Jutland's_ nerve center was bathed in a cold blue light. The ever-present hum of the air circulation system wasn't enough to overcome the oppressive silence in the unusually crowded compartment. Lieutenant Jack Kelly tapped distractedly on the table in front of him; while the ship was running silent there was little for a warfare officer to do. The room was broken up into two thirds- to his right was the Navigation station where the Officer of the Watch was responsible for the sailors who guided the ship along her course. To the left was the Intel station where Intelligence was gathered and electronic warfare conducted. The central component of the ship's Operations Room was the warfare station- comprised of a semicircle of computer terminals around the tactical holotable where Jack was standing. He stole a glance at the huddle of officers gathered around the aforementioned holotable including a concerned looking Captain and several heads of department.

"So this is their last known location?" Queried captain Casey. A legendary figure in the modern Fleet, she stood head and shoulders over her peers in her experience and tactical ability.

"Aye ma'am. The sensors are also picking up a debris field of some size at the center of the unknown fleet- not uniform enough to be from a single destroyed vessel. _Graf-Spe_ could have been involved," Kelly replied.

"Take us to 200,000 kilometres and start a long distance scan of the wreckage. Ensure that our emissions cannot be traced back to us."

The Officer of the Watch nodded. "Aye aye ma'am. Helm, increase flank speed to 140, come about Red 15 degrees with 020 down-angle." The helmsman took hold of the controls and began bringing the vessel around to the new course displayed by the ship's AI.

"Aye sir, flank 140 – Red 15 – 020 down-angle," the sailor replied.

"Estimated time to waypoint is four hours while running silent ma'am."

The Captain tapped her fingers against the plastic surface of the holotable. "Very good. Call the ship to Action Stations when we arrive. Quartermaster- I want all heads of department mustered in the aft briefing room."

 _Kokoda Battlegroup- USEFC Jutland- Aft Briefing Room –ETA 90 min to observation position_

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, stand by for my brief." Captain Casey stood behind a podium at the front of the compartment. Before her were a dozen officers, all with some knowledge of the nature of their mission but little beyond that provided by rumours and speculation. On the far wall were monitors displaying officers from four other ships listening in. "On the 20th of March the Protector class destroyer USEFC _Graf-Spe_ was ordered to investigate unusual signals emanating from this location. Two days later she was declared missing with all hands. It has now been six days since District Command has been able to establish positive contact with our missing ship. On arriving in system we detected a large fleet of unknown starships holding station around a debris field of artificial composition."

Low muttering broke out amongst the seated personnel before the captain continued. "Our mission is to locate _Graf-Spe_ or her wreck and recover her recordings, logbooks and surviving crew if she is unable to return to friendly space. At the moment it is not known whether these contacts have anything to do with her. In accordance with the First Contact Protocols we are also to establish communications with the unknown players- but I want all of you to exercise the highest degree of caution. For the time being we are approaching the fleet under stealth in order to gain intelligence. Immediately prior to contacting the fleet USEFC _Ajax_ will return to District Command with my report."

"Commanders we will be making our approach cautiously. Do not target the unknown vessels. Do not engage unless you yourselves are engaged or are ordered to do so by myself. All communications with the foreign faction will be handled by Jutland; therefore you will avoid independent contact and are not to respond to hails. These are my orders- you are dismissed."

 _Kokoda Battlegroup- USEFC Jutland- Operations Room –Arrival on station_

"Action stations- action stations- action stations. All hands- action stations."

"Assume damage control state one- condition zulu throughout the ship. Switch all lights to red, close all doors and hatches."

One by one the ships' internal lights blinked red. They threw dark light over the sailors and officers as they hurried to their equipment lockers. They wore expressions of grim determination as they began to slip into their ballistic armour. The pounding of boots against deck plates combined with the action stations alarm to create a chaotic and confusing atmosphere- but one familiar to the crew as a result of countless drills.

In the Ops Room Lieutenant Kelly stretched in his seat and stifled a tired yawn. In front of him two weapons operators were giving him status reports on their systems, offensive and defensive respectively. To his left a third sailor was giving a contact report as a new ship entered the system and joined the slowly growing fleet. He could hear the Officer of the Watch across the room- coaxing the starship into position between her escorts. Behind him he could feel the Captain's watchful gaze as she surveyed the smoothly operating machine responsible for the safety and combat capabilities of her ship.

"Captain, ma'am, the ship is at action stations. Time taken was four minutes."

"Very good Lieutenant Kelly."

To become the Warfare Officer of a USEFC warship was no easy task. The combat category was highly selective and with a not insignificant dash of elitism. Although it was broken up into several different specialisations any officer of the combat category could expect to serve as an Officer of the Watch for several years before accumulating the skills required to branch out to the worlds of Intelligence, Small Craft, Advanced Navigation or Warfare. Drawing on years of experience being responsible for the navigation of starships these officers gained the ability to retain their cool professionalism in the most chaotic and dangerous situations. Part of this was learning how to listen to multiple people making reports at once while condensing the information and passing it on to their commanding officer. One such piece of information caught Jack's attention.

" _Essex_ has joined the formation sir. All escorts are present and accounted for. All ships reporting ready to go on our mark."

Jack turned in his seat. "Captain ma'am, all escorts are on station and good to go. Passive scans indicate that five new vessels have entered the system since we began our approach, and that we remain undetected. Intelligence reports that they will need more time to have any real chance at interpreting any communications within the unknown fleet. Scans of the debris field are inconclusive, save that the source must have been several ships of respectable magnitude."

Captain Casey nodded slowly. "Open a channel to the battlegroup," she replied.

A high-pitched whine sounded several times, signalling secure connections to the four other USEFC vessels present.

She looked at him and nodded. Jack reached up and pressed a button on his headset, linking it to the secure communications channel.

"Aye aye ma'am. Commanders, please stand by for my tactical brief." He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. "The unknown fleet is comprised of some 142 vessels. An analysis of their activities over the past few hours show them to be grouped in three to five distinct 'taskgroups', each centered around a large vessel approximately 1500-2000 metres in length. At least half of the vessels present are combat oriented, with weapons mounts visible to long range telemetry, while we believe the others to be support oriented. This faction utilises a form of faster than light travel foreign to us with our sensors having been so far unable to predict the arrival of their ships. A large number of armed small-craft patrol the system; most of which seem to have been launched by the capital warships present. As the tactical situation stands we are heavily outnumbered by an organised military force of unknown capabilities- one which has had time to entrench their position. Their point of origin and intentions are unknown, as is whether or not they have anything to do with _Graf-Spe's_ disappearance. That is the conclusion of my brief."

Jack felt his mouth go dry as he finished speaking. He disconnected himself from the secure channel and watched the Captain continue her own brief, laying out rules of engagement should their attempt to contact the unknowns turn sour. He gripped the armrest of his seat and steadied his breathing. If any sailor were to turn from their station and look at him, they would only see the quietly confident face of their warfare officer as he studied the display in front of him. But he saw nothing. He was keenly aware of the fact that a good ship and her experienced crew had already gone missing in this region of space- and that the sudden appearance of another spacefaring entity was an impossible coincidence.

 _Uncharted star system- Fringe Space- First Contact_

The five battlestar groups were arranged in a rough sphere around the debris field. The Battlestars themselves hung motionless relative to their formations with an assortment of cruisers, destroyers and corvettes patrolling sectors assigned by their respective flagships. Further out again screens of Vipers and Raptors with upgraded DRADIS sensor packages did the same. The assorted Colonial personnel understood little of what had occurred save that several ships had recently been lost with all hands and that there was something in the debris field, besides the bodies of their dead comrades, that needed protecting.

So when the flight leader of Viper squadron seven from Battlestar _Atlanta_ noticed the stars ahead of them fading out of existence she called the attention of her subordinates to the phenomenon. Three seconds later a grey mass appeared in front of the group of vipers, flickered red and green, and then materialised as an 800 metre long warship barrelled out of nothing straight towards them.

"Go evasive! Re-form on me." She ordered her squadron. The lieutenant blinked rapidly as she dodged the oncoming ship. The seven other Vipers scattered- the lightning fast reflexes of their pilots barely enough to avoid collision.

"What the frack is that!" Came a panicky voice.

"Stand by ensign." She said while trying to fight down her own surprise. " _Atlanta_ this is Buckshot- an unidentified vessel has jumped into the system. Awaiting instructions."

"Buckshot this is _Atlanta_ actual, we have the contact on visual telemetry. Maintain your distance and adopt a non-threatening posture."

 _Battlestar Solaria- Flag Center- First Contact_

"Order them to stand down damn it!" Admiral Banks shouted. "Somebody tell me what we're looking at here. And get a Raptor to send us a visual feed!"

The Flag Centre of _Solaria_ was in uproar as the room in charge of coordinating the largest fleet of Colonial warships outside of their home system responded to the unexpected incursion. Somewhere down the line an Admiral had realised that commanding both a ship and a fleet from the same compartment was highly impractical at best and downright dangerous at worst. The Flag Center was dominated by large DRADIS screens which displayed the disposition and status of subordinate units and Battlestar Groups. A ring of computer stations surrounded it where a growing number of the ship's crew were furiously entering commands into their terminals. A screen in front of the Admiral's chair was showing a live feed of the CiC where the ship's commander was reorienting his own forces to face this new threat.

"Receiving a visual feed sir!" A technician called out. "Patching it to the conference screen."

Admiral Banks looked towards the large screen mounted directly opposite the Flag Center's singular entryway. The screen went on and a blurry picture emerged. The technician entered several commands into his terminal and the image sharpened.

"What in the…" The admiral paused as he digested what he was seeing. "DRADIS, I'm looking at a ship right now and there's four more right next to it. It's sitting right in front of one of our cruisers. Why am I not seeing the contact on my DRADIS screen?" The admiral's voice grew louder with each sentence.

"Unknown sir, please standby." The operator looked questioningly towards the technician still standing beside the conference screen. The maintainer shook his head and shrugged.

The DRADIS screens dominating the centre of the room flickered as multiple new contacts appeared. "DRADIS contact bearing-" the officer stopped as the admiral cut him off.

"I see it. Have all ships remain at action stations. I want every Viper in this fleet able to be launched within a minute. Stand by to make contact with the largest of the unknown vessels."

The admiral's aide turned towards him. "Is it the Cylons sir? Why aren't they shooting at us?"

"Those aren't Cylons son. Those are humans."

 _After formal first contact was established with the reclusive human government identifying itself as the 'United Systems'- the President, with the Colonial Quorum's support, established a joint military and government advisory committee. This group was responsible for cataloging all information pertaining to this new branch of humanity. The initial issues they were tasked with answering included: Who exactly were these new humans? Where did they come from? What was their connection with Kobol? And would they peacefully ally themselves with the Twelve Colonies of Kobol?_

-Excerpt from " _The Troubles"_ \- A Colonial Government publication


End file.
